


The Adventures of a Theoretical Magician

by JabberwockyLyric



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Male Character, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JabberwockyLyric/pseuds/JabberwockyLyric
Summary: What is a theoretical magician? Think a theoretical physicist but with spellwork instead of endless math problems. You create new spells and improve existing ones, which attracts some real weirdos to your door.Cue John Constantine asking for your assistance on yet another mishap. After that adventure, you now find yourself joining the Legends to help take down a cult of time traveling magi. It’s been fun helping save the timeline, but is it too much to ask them to stop making messes for just five minutes!Oh, and can everybody stop comparing you to a certain warlock! That's getting old real quick.
Relationships: John Constantine/Reader, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	The Adventures of a Theoretical Magician

You curl up in your favorite armchair, with a cappuccino and the newest book from Rebecca Silver. Since you have nothing planned for today, you dress in your most comfortable sweats and hoodie. It seems a rather nice day to just relax with a book from an author you enjoyed reading.

Just as you open the book to the first page, a loud knock echoes on the front door.

Letting out a sigh, you shout towards the door, “Who is it?”

A familiar voice responds, “It’s Constantine, mate.”

“You know the drill.” A smile slips on your face as you close your book and place it next to the cappuccino on the side table.

You’ve known Constantine for about five years now. Most of the reasons for his visits generally involve needing your knowledge in magic, but they somehow end up turning into rather life threatening catastrophes. As to why you still associate with him, well, you always know yourself to be a major adrenaline junkie, which makes him your dealer, but you get some pretty rare stuff for your troubles anyway.

The door opens and in comes Constantine.

You quip, “Seeing as though you actually bothered to shower before coming here, I’d say whatever job you need my help with is rather urgent.”

He flashes you that cocky grin. “Ay, better look my best before asking a favor of you.”

“Which immortal deity did you decide to piss off this month?”

“Haven’t picked one yet.”

“Riiiiiiight,” you drawl out. “So, what do you need me for that your dark magic ass can’t handle?” 

“I’m here because I need a second warlock for a spell.”

“Figures. You never make a sober social call. So, what’s the spell you need my help with?”

“Weather magic. Need to conjure a snowstorm.”

“Alright, I’m in.” You get up from the couch. “However, we need to discuss payment first.”

Constantine visibly stiffens. “What’s your price?”

“Your blood.” You grab a mason jar and place it in front of him. “Fill ‘er up.”

“What do you need it for?” He stares at the empty jar on the coffee table.

“I’m trying to develop a new type of communication spell, using blood as the medium. So, no matter where the person is, the message will always be received.”

“Pretty sure there’s already a spell like that, mate.”

“Yeah, and you just have to rip off a piece of your soul beforehand for it to work.”

“Well, ring me up when you get that blood spell to work. Could come in handy one day.” He starts rolling his left sleeve up.

“Will do, after all, you’re one of my best paying clients. Well, I’m going to get my magic kit. We’ll leave when I’m done preparing. In the meantime, you have a jar to fill.” With a wave, you head to your bedroom.

Your bedroom is tidy with a made queen-sized bed and walk-closet. Every inch of wall, ceiling, and floor bears a magical sigil, with varying purposes including warding, amplifying, and protecting. You enter the closet and pick out your work outfit: black trousers, a wine red dress shirt, and a black tie emblazoned with your personal insignia. You quickly change clothes and slip on your black dress shoes. As you exit the closet, you grab your black gloves and pull them on. Reaching underneath your bed, you drag out the white briefcase. With everything in hand, you exit your room.

Constantine stands where you left him earlier. However, he has a handkerchief wrapped around his left wrist. He gestures towards the now filled jar on the coffee table, as he asks, “You got your things?”

You hold up your briefcase. 

He grins, “Geez, took you long enough to get all dressed up. Felt like I was waiting for a prom date.”

“I thought you would appreciate the wait,” you retort. “After all, you were willing to bleed for me.”

“I’ve got the cut to prove it.” He raises the bandaged arm.

“No need to get cheeky with me.” You cast a simple healing spell, “ _ Dia. _ ”

“Thanks,” he mutters. He pulls off the handkerchief, revealing perfectly healed skin.

You hold the door open. “After you, emperor.” Constantine rolls his eyes at you as he leaves your house. You close the door behind you and follow after him. The house automatically locks itself.

Instantly, you notice a change in the atmosphere. The space in front of you shimmers slightly. Your eyes roll as you comment, “Traveling by portal, huh? Not very creative.”

Constantine frowns at you. “It works. And I’m not here for your entertainment.”

You just shrug as you mutter, “What ever happened to your sense of adventure.” Nevertheless, you follow after him through the portal. You end up on the side of a grassy hillside. It looks rather desolate, but then again, great place for spellcasting with Constantine, no collateral damage.

Looking over at Constantine, you ask, “What’s the snow summoning for anyway?”

He already has a lit cigarette in his mouth as he replies, “Well, I’m having trouble with the Erymanthian Boar. So, we need to capture it.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “The actual boar from the Herculean myth?”

He nods. “If we don’t-”

“Count me in,” you interrupt. “Anyway, which weather magic are we using today?”

“The modified shaman rain-making ritual.”

“Pretty sure I came up with that.” You reach into your briefcase with practiced ease and pull out a wand, the type used in Shinto blessing rituals.

“You did,” he shrugs. He crouches to the ground and starts carving symbols into the dirt. You find yourself impressed at the speed with which he works. However, you know you can finish it faster. With a flick of your wrist, all of the necessary groundwork gets completed.

Constantine frowns at you. “Could have handled that myself, mate.” However, he hardly looks cross when he has to crane his neck to look at you properly while still crouched on the ground.

“I’d rather not stand in the middle of nowhere waiting for you to finish playing in the dirt. So, you want to recite the incantation or control the water elementals?”

“Sod off.” His words have no bite to them. “No need to show off you’re the better elementalist every time.”

“Just keeping that ego in check.” You raise the wand and close your eyes. The moment you hear Constantine’s voice recite the spell, you spin the wand in large arcs around your head. Using your magic, you manipulate the water molecules in the air, making them crystalize and turn into snowflakes. The incantation mimics what you are doing so you don’t have to stand around, molding each snowflake.

When the incantation ends, you open your eyes and lower the wand. You stand in two feet of snow, with more snow falling on top of you from the dark clouds above.

As you put your wand away, you ask, “What’s your plan with the snow anyway?”

Constantine chuckles as he replies, “A bit late to be asking that now, mate. We’re doing the old trap-the-boar-in-the-snow method. Hercules used it himself. It’ll be gift wrapped for us to capture. Easiest job we have to do.” He says it with so much confidence that you want to believe him.

However, knowing the mayhem magnet that is Constantine, the chances of his plan going to shit are actually higher than him succeeding. You need to come up with a backup plan in case his trick with the snow does not work. However, your mind draws blanks on how to stop a rampaging boar the size of a tank with razor sharp tusks.

You just stand there, examining Constantine as he silently smokes. He’s changed quite a bit since you last saw him, the severe paranoia taken down a notch. The group he’s currently working with seems to be a good influence on him.

When the snow finally reaches your shoulders, it stops falling. You pull your mind out of your thoughts. It’s time to focus on the task at hand once again.

Constantine presses a finger to his ear, activating a comm device, and speaks into it, “The spell’s done.”

Now is the second round of the waiting game.

However, you don’t have to wait very long. A loud groan splits the silent landscape.

A hideous boar the size of two double decker buses comes into sight. It has two gleaming white tusks with a razor sharpness to them. The hairs on it looks more like thick greasy rope. Behind it, a man with a flamethrower and a woman with two batons chase after it, forcing it towards the snow patch.

The boar rampages as expected.  _ Maybe this plan will go through without a hitch _ , you think.

However, that hope quickly diminishes in an instant. The boar charges with its head pointing upwards, so that its tusks don’t get buried in the snow.

You turn to face Constantine. You say nothing. You just raise an eyebrow and mouth, ‘Again?’

He scowls. You see his eyes flicker back and forth as he tries to come up with another plan.

The boar turns around and starts charging at its attackers.

Your hand twitches from idly waiting on the sidelines. There’s no way to capture the giant thing alive. Wait-

You shout at Constantine, “I have an idea! The only way to stop it is to kill it!”

He nods at you, “I’m listening.”

“We need to melt all this snow. And fast!”

Fire manifests in the palm of his hands. He instantly goes to work.

In the distance, you see the man with the portable flamethrower also helping melt the snow while the woman distracts the boar on her own.

You help them out with the task at hand. With the power of fire elementals in your grasp, you boost the strength of all the surrounding fire, so the snow melts faster. You call forth a wave of fire that washes over the remaining snow.

When you feel coldness soaking into your socks and trousers, you shout, “Everybody, get out of the water!”

You place your gloved hands in the melted snow water. A quick survey of the area shows nobody will be in the line of fire. Magic flickers at the tips of your fingers, “ _ Maziodyne _ !”

Bolts of lightning surround you. Thanks to your magical wards, you remain immune from the energy swirling around in the water. So, all of that power converges onto one point, onto three thousand pounds of angry pork.

The boar lets out a piercing screech. It stops in its tracks and starts to shuffle around in a circle until it locks eyes onto you. Murderous rage burns in its gaze as it lets out an angry grunt. It aims its sharp tusk at you.

You summon your magic again, “ _ Maziodyne. _ ”

It runs towards you at a maddening pace.

“ _ Maziodyne _ .”

It continues its charge with no indication of stopping.

“ _ Maziodyne. _ ”

The odor of burning flesh clogs your nostrils. However, the thudding of hooves slows down.

“ _ Maziodyne _ .”

With a loud thud, a charred giant corpse lands at your feet.

You remove your wet hands from the murky water and turn around to face the audience.

The blond woman from before approaches you. She carries herself with an air of authority.  _ Must be the leader, _ you think. Behind her stood the bald man with the flamethrower and Constantine.

Time to make a good first impression. You give her a polite smile, the kind used in customer service. “You must be the infamous Captain Sara.”

She seems amicable enough as she extends a hand towards you. “Don’t believe John has ever mentioned you.”

You gingerly accept her handshake. “Y/N L/N. Probably because I’m actually a better warlock than him.”

Constantine rolls his eyes, “This coming from the guy that flooded the bloody Alps in the 1930s.”

“Right…” you drawl. You create little ripples in the water with your foot. This mess is technically your fault, so you have a responsibility to clean it up. Besides, you’re probably the only person in the vicinity with the ability to do so. You tap into the power of the water elementals once again. With swirling motions of your hands, the water returns back to the sky where it belongs. You flash Constantine a shit eating grin. “Actually, make that, better everything than you.”

Sara laughs.

At that moment, you process what Constantine mentioned earlier. You ask, “Wait, does that mean I just saved the entire plot of the Sound of Music from a giant Boar?”

The bald man groans, “Not again. Can’t stand all the singing.”

“It’s called a musical for a reason-” You gesture towards the man.

“Mick.”

“After all…  _ The hills are alive _ ,” you start to sing.

Sara raises an eyebrow at you. “Instead of focusing on the fact you just time traveled, you decide to quote the Sound of Music?”

“Yup.” You slightly pop your 'p' for emphasis.  


“And you guys are actually friends? I expected him to be extremely moody.” Her question seems more directed at Constantine.

With a shrug, he replies, “I ask myself that question every time I see him.”

“No need to be insulting,” you shout at them playfully, as you walk back to the electrocuted corpse. With a firm grip on the base of the tusk, you rip it out of its socket easily enough as the charred muscle gives way. The other one gets the same treatment. You throw a tusk at Constantine’s feet while holding onto the other.

He nudges it with the tip of his shoe. “What am I supposed to do with this then?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer blandly. “Turn it into a weapon, use it in a spell. I don’t care.”

Gingerly, he picks it up and hands it over to Sara.

“Hey Y/N!” shouts Sara as she waves the tusk around. “The Legends could use another magician if you’re interested.”

“As nice as the offer sounds, I’m gonna have to decline. Time travel isn’t really my thing. Plus, you already have a decent enough warlock on board.” You point your head in Constantine’s direction. “Anyway, I’ve had enough adventures for today. Would one of you mind taking me back home, to my own time period?”

“Constantine?” Sara suggests, but her tone seems more like an order despite the lighthearted tone.

He activates a device on his wrist. The same shimmering portal from before appears in front of you. The moment you step through it, you find yourself standing on the porch of your house once more.

You are pleasantly surprised when Constantine walks with you to the door. You tease, “If this were a first date, I’d be swooning right about now.”

“If we were dating, I would check myself into an asylum immediately,” he quips back. “Anyway, wanted to say thanks for the compliment. It means a lot, coming from you.”

“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself now. If you need to complain about the Legends, you know where I am.” He nods and disappears as you walk through the door.

After dropping the giant tusk in the doorway, you collapse into your armchair. Using that much magic earlier has drained a large portion of your magical energy, but nobody is gonna judge you now for taking a five hour nap. You reach to the side table. Surprisingly, the cappuccino you abandoned earlier is still warm where you left it. “The wonders of time travel,” you mutter as you sip your coffee.

Suddenly, the front door slams open. A beat up Constantine steps through the entrance.


End file.
